


Through My Veins

by lockerghost (orphan_account)



Category: Elyza Lex - Fandom, Lexark - Fandom, QTWD, The 100 (TV), clexa - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Clexa, F/F, Fluff, Slow Burn, Smut, i honestly just wanted cabin fluff but then i figured why not torture myself instead, immune!elyza, qtwd - Freeform, then it lightens up again don't worry, this starts out as a fluff fest and gets progressively darker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-17 22:43:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7289011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lockerghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Elyza saves Alicia after her ankle twists, and they spend a lot of quality time together in the cabin Elyza's been holed up in. One thing she fails to tell Alicia, however, is that she's immune, and that there are people hunting her.</p><p>Cabin fluff, slow burn, angst, and action.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through My Veins

**Author's Note:**

> first chapter's short, next ones about 10k. lemme know what you think pls my crops are dying.

Elyza’s making green tea in the dusty comfort of her temporary home when Alicia Clark stumbles into her life.

She’s hooked her iPod up to a scratched up bluetooth speaker, and put her playlist on shuffle at a mellow volume. Her hips sway softly to a light indie beat as she stirs her dinner, shifting the pan. It’s barely edging into sundown outside, a bluish tint overcoming every growing shadow. Not that it matters much, quite honestly. All the windows here are boarded up, and Elyza has more than a clearly abundant supply of candles at hand. She’d found them in a box in the attic, covered in the grime of years. This place has been empty since long before the apocalypse, she’s come to realize. But now it’s not, anymore--she’s here, and it’s served its purpose to her for about a week, now. Who would have thought she’d end up hiding out in a cozy cabin in the middle of the woods, anyway?

That’s not to say that candles are her only source of light. There is a generator out back, and she found an electricity bill in the bedroom upstairs, so there’s no doubt that the place was hooked up to power lines before the collapse. The grids have been dead for about a month, now, though. She’s turned the generator on to charge her iPod a couple times, and heat up water for a bath or two, but she can never use it for too long due to all the noise, and how much fuel it consumes. It’s nice to have the option open, nevertheless. And there’s plenty of gas lined up in the otherwise rather empty garage, home to nothing much save for her trusty old [Harley](http://pictures.topspeed.com/IMG/crop/201408/harley-davidson-iron-4_600x0w.jpg). She’s bent on not using it all, though.

So she cooks all her food and boils all her water on an old wood-burning stove, careful to keep away from the hot metal. She occasionally makes runs just past the nearby suburbs in order to scrounge grocery stores and pharmacies for more food, and the nearby wildlife yields no shortage of edibles, so she’s very well stocked. Things couldn’t be better for her, right now. Well… They could. But they’re as good as they can get in the apocalypse, really.

She’s taking the pasta off the stove when she hears the groaning. 

She immediately knows something’s wrong. Walkers don’t often come down this way--they tend to concentrate themselves in the cities, more than anything, and when they migrate, they tend to follow the roads. She sets the pot down on the counter, flips her music off, and steps over to the coffee table in front of the empty fireplace. There sits her 9mm, metallic sheen appearing golden in the candle light. She picks it up, checks its clip, and clicks the safety off, before stepping outside.

There’s movement in the forest line, too fast to be a walker.

Within seconds, a clearly human form comes stumbling into the clearing, breaking into a frantic sprint and heading _straight towards Elyza._

“What the actual fuck…?” She brings her gun up to aim. She doesn’t have time for this--she was just getting comfortable. Her pasta must be getting cold by now. “Stop or I’ll shoot!” Her voice booms and echoes. The person seems to falter, before they’re out of the shadows and Elyza can distinguish their features.

It’s a girl--just a couple years younger than her, it seems.

A rather pretty one, at that, her wavy dark hair a flowing mess behind her.

_Ah, fuck my life._

She lowers her gun gingerly and steps off the porch, putting her hand up in a short wave. “Who are you? What’s wrong?”

The girl’s gaze comes up to meet Elyza’s.

Time seems to stop, though neither know why.

Then she trips and twists horribly not ten feet away from the blonde. A stream of curses makes it out of her mouth. “Ugh, fuck, fuck, _fuck._ ” Her voice seems dry and exhausted, breaking as she grasps for her ankle and tries desperately to push herself onto her feet.

Elyza hasn’t blinked before she’s at the girl’s side, her hands hesitantly placed on the brunette’s hips as she tries to help her up. It’s no use.

“Why the hell are you even here?!” Elyza asks. “This is the middle of buck-fuck nowhere.”

The brunette only shakes her head, before pointing to the forest line.

A horde of walkers, incredible in numbers, limping toward the two women.

Elyza curses. Why do pretty girls always bring nothing but trouble?

She pushes out an exasperated groan, before she puts her gun in the back of her jeans. She slips her arms under the brunette’s knees and back, lifting her almost effortlessly. She’s surprisingly light as she clasps her arms behind the blonde’s neck, and Elyza’s grateful for it.

“Where to, cutie?” She jokes, as she rushes back toward the cabin. She doesn’t look, but she can tell the girl rolls her eyes.

There’s something familiar about it.

\--

She wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for Nick.

Or maybe she’s just telling herself that; Anything to try and alleviate the panicked fury in her bones.

They had gone out on a late supply run, leaving their camp a couple miles behind in favor of the suburbs.

The thing is, they never made it to the suburbs.

Somewhere along the way in the dark, the two siblings split up. The world was a blur of dark blue and death. She hasn’t seen him since, and she had lost all hold on direction.

The only hope she had was running toward the thin grey smoke that seemed to rise out of the trees in the distance.

Walkers fucking suck.

But that’s not really what’s on her mind as her new Australian friend lifts her into her arms and pushes into her cabin, all within a few effortless seconds. What’s on her mind is how utterly and numbingly _beautiful_ she is.

That, and the shooting pain in her ankle.

“Hope it’s tidy enough for you,” the woman jokes as she sets Alicia down on a couch inside the cabin, before moving away. She bolts the door shut, before barricading it with a long, heavy dresser that sat off to the side. It doesn’t seem movable unless lifted off the ground, so Alicia tries to believe in the safety of the defense.

“I’m gonna need you to keep quiet, now, alright?” The blonde’s voice is low and gravelly, keeping to a hush. Alicia nods, and a look of vague satisfaction fills the woman’s features. She puffs out a sigh before backing away and moving to the stove across the room. There’s food there, Alicia notes. Good, _cooked_ food. She feels a hollow clench in her stomach, and she remembers why exactly she was going out for supplies in the first place.

As if on a wish, a bowl of pasta is carried over to the coffee table at her side, and within a few seconds, a cup of tea. Her eyes widen, and her chest heavies at the sight, her mouth going dry. She’s reaching over when a hand comes to rest at her wrist, surprisingly gentle.

“Not yet, lovely,” the woman says. “We’ve got to fix you up, first.”

Alicia fills with disappointment and her lips pull into a small, unintentional pout. She only notices when the blonde chuckles quietly. The sound is oddly warm. Comforting, in all honesty. She figures the woman hasn’t done her any harm yet, so why would she at all? She finds herself putting faith in her--more than she’s done for anyone in a long while. It surprises her.

Her ankle is pulled up to rest on a couple of pillows, and the blonde disappears for a minute. She comes back with a cold pack, and a small first aid kit. It’s not long before Alicia’s pant leg is being pulled up around her calf, and her ankle’s being examined.

“That’s one really bad sprain. Takes a bit of effort for something like this,” the blonde says, sighing, “I’ll give ya that much.” Alicia looks at her expectantly, and blue eyes meet green. “Nothing we can do but ice it and let it heal.”

Alicia nods in understanding. She’s had sprains before, obviously--she used to go out and hike with her classmates, on occasion. But as she tries to bend her foot and winces at the pain, she’s reminded that they were never this bad….

“How long?” She asks, hoping for a short answer. The blonde just chuckles, before cracking the cold pack and handing it to her. Alicia presses it to her ankle and a small hum fills her chest at the relief. She hasn’t felt ice in so long.

The woman steps away, ruffling her own hair and then stretching lazily. “Well, if you heal like a mutant, probably a couple hours. Otherwise, you’re lookin’ at a few long weeks.”

A few long weeks.

Oh, fuck.

Alicia drops the ice pack and leans forward, taking her backpack off and swinging it around to her front with a grunt. She rummages desperately, before pulling out a small black radio. The pack falls against her chest as she fumbles with the device, pushing down its button to meet… 

Silence. 

No static indicative of function. 

Her heart falls into the pit of her stomach.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” she sighs, “fuck my life.” Her hand comes up to pull at her own hair, as she tries to fight back the swell of panic in her ribs. She doesn’t look up when her new Australian friend takes a seat on the edge of the coffee table, and stays there.

“What’s the fit about?” She asks Alicia. Her voice is… Soft, now. Still scratchy and strong, but soft. Alicia finds her own eyes meeting the blonde’s blue ones again, and she sighs.

“My mom probably thinks I’m dead,” she says. It’s barely a whisper forced out of her lungs. “I’m not.”

The blonde’s eyes fill with something--sympathy, perhaps, and compassion. She pulls the pack off Alicia’s chest, setting it down on the floor, before taking the radio into her own hands. Alicia looks on in curiosity before the woman sets the radio on the table, and nudges the bowl of pasta. There’s a frown on her face--as if she was just reminded of something painful.

“Worry about that after you’ve got a full belly, alright?”

Alicia doesn’t have to be asked twice.

By the time she’s enthusiastically stuffing her face with sauteed pasta, the blonde’s settled into the couch across the table, reclining lazily. Her eyes never really leave Alicia, studying her carefully, and Alicia, in turn, can’t bring herself to care.

When the bowl is finally empty and she’s swallowed down all her tea, a drowsy heaviness settles in Alicia’s muscles. She’s reminded of everything that’s happened, and there’s nothing she wants more right now than to give in to the thick tug of sleep. She sighs as she places the cold pack on her ankle again, and leans back into the pillows. Her breaths turn slow and weighted, and she can’t help the small hum that slips out. She’s an utter mess, and needs a change of clothes, but none of that matters as he eyes drift closed. Candlelight flickers against her lids until she hears the blonde get up and blow some of them out. A few seconds later, a soft quilt settles over her body. Then she hears the sound of couch cushions deepening again, and she can tell the blonde intends to sleep there, across from her. Though something in her tells her that sleep won’t take the woman, tonight.

Minutes pass, and there’s nothing but the faint groaning outside and the sound of her own breathing to fill the silence. She finds herself wondering how stupid she has to be to fall asleep in a room with a total stranger, with no means of defending herself. She finds herself wondering if she’s going to die, this way--though a tickle at the back of her mind chants a strong, firm, ‘no.’ She doesn’t know where the tickle comes from.

Then, a whisper.

“What’s your name?” The blonde’s accent isn’t as evident through the quiet. There’s a few thumps at the door--bodies colliding clumsily with wood.

“Alicia Clark,” the other girl answers, barely more than a mumble through the growing fog of sleep. She hasn’t been this tired in ages. “You?”

“Elyza,” there's a pause. “Elyza Lex.”

Alicia hums in response, and before she knows it, she’s drifting off with nothing but the final echo of a thought.

_There’s something familiar about it._

**Author's Note:**

> ayy there goes the first chapter. find me at [my blog.](http://lexacares.tumblr.com)
> 
> pls be gentle


End file.
